


A Scent-sational Morning

by newtypeshadow



Series: Your hearts are playing my song [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Birthday Presents, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes is a menace, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, Morning Sex, Multi, Omega Tony Stark, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Wall Sex, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Werewolf Steve Rogers, Werewolf Tony Stark, Winteriron Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow
Summary: "Morning, doll," Bucky says when he wakes Tony up. "Need your help. I wanna make Steve a birthday present, 'n I can't do it without you."OR: Steve loves smelling Bucky's come inside Tony, so his soulmates make it happen. (Oh, the hardship.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Your hearts are playing my song [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683868
Comments: 67
Kudos: 1054
Collections: WinterIron Month 2021





	A Scent-sational Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the WinterIron Month 2020 NSFW prompts for Wednesday, March 18th: Rough Sex, Fingering, and “You’re doing so well for me.”
> 
> Please note that while this fic is a majority WinterIron, there's a Stuckony smut scene when Steve arrives about 60% through. If you're not into that, stop reading when Steve gets home.
> 
> This was my first time writing a full smut scene in a while, and I've been extremely nervous about it. >_< Thanks [Wiggle](/users/Wiggle), [swtalmd](/users/swtalmnd), [OddConfection](/users/OddConfection), [jameson9101322](/users/jameson9101322), and [the Stuckony server](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) at large for all your moral support and encouragement during my angsting and flailing! Thanks also to [Narutaisho](/users/Narutaisho) and [MercurialMagpie](/users/MercurialMagpie) from the server for betaing. Any mistakes you find are mine.

When Tony slides into wakefulness, the three-part harmony he's barely conscious of when he's with his soulmates, Steve and Bucky, pushes closer to the forefront of his mind.

The balance is off.

Their song has become so intrinsic to his daily life that now he only notices it when he's paying attention, or when it changes—is suddenly _wrong_. Like now: it's too quiet. Steve's melody is little more than a whisper in his mind.

Steve and Bucky were born werewolves, knew what the melodies in their heads meant and used them to find each other as children, so after almost two decades together, they're used to one another's melodies wavering in strength and volume. But for Tony their harmony is new—like being a werewolf—and it's such a constant, much-needed comfort that he always feels a little off-kilter when they travel far enough from him that their melodies decrescendo, or worse, fall silent. He's also come to hate waking up in a bed where one or both of them is missing. So he's muzzily unsettled to realize their sound is off because Steve is on his morning run even though it's his birthday, which is the ideal day to sleep in with his husband and needy boyfriend.

To be fair, Tony was asleep when Steve left, so it makes a _little_ bit of sense that he ran off.

Unlike Tony, however, Bucky seems _pleased_ by Steve's departure—as if he was banking on it—because he waits until then to wake Tony with wandering hands and a hot, clever mouth.

"Morning, doll," he says, pulling off Tony's cock when he's sleepily undulated his way into some semblance of wakefulness. "Need your help." Tony mumbles an incoherent question that Bucky understands well enough to slyly explain, "I wanna make Steve a birthday present, 'n I can't do it without you."

Which is how Tony winds up with Bucky kneeling over his face and jerking into his mouth, while he sucks and licks the head of Bucky's cock and fondles his balls with increasing awareness and ramping enthusiasm. When Bucky comes down his throat and across his tongue, filling Tony's mouth with his spend, he quickly ducks to sniff at Tony's jaw and the column of his neck—no doubt checking that the scent is strong enough to be immediately noticeable to a werewolf with Steve's doubly-enhanced sense of smell.

"He's gonna go crazy when he smells me inside you," Bucky says smugly.

Given Steve's propensity for sloppy seconds when fucking Tony, the way he always nuzzles closer to Tony after Bucky's come on or inside him, and the way he scents the air and always looks a little wild around the edges after Bucky fucks his come deeper into Tony before pulling out, Tony's inclined to agree with that assessment.

He finds his harmony grievance swiftly replaced by a new one: Bucky's stretching him open what feels like achingly slowly, given the time crunch he knows they're in, because Bucky is a goddamned _menace_. If Bucky's going to knot him; get him plugged and in the leopard-print silk bathrobe, and able to walk downstairs under his own steam without stumbling around sex-drunk; and get them both to the kitchen so he can start breakfast for the three of them; all before Steve gets back, Bucky can't spend all this time fucking _teasing_.

But he does. Tony writhes on Bucky's fingers and tries to pull him closer with the leg thrown over his shoulder, tries to take Bucky's fingers deeper, make him go faster. Tony's a werewolf now too, for fuck's sake—he doesn't need all this prep. He's not gonna break. "C'mon, c'mon, please, 'm ready," he whines, not at all embarrassed by his own shamelessness because it so often gets his boyfriends to give him what he wants.

"Shh," Bucky says instead, adding another finger and stretching Tony still wider. "Don't wanna hurt you when I knot."

Tony opens his mouth to tell Bucky he won't, and that he's a finger-fucking tyrant who needs to hurry the hell up, but Bucky knows how mouthy Tony gets well enough by now that the sudden, overwhelming prostate massage that utterly derails Tony's higher brain functioning can only have been done to shut him up. By the time Tony gets his wits back, the massage has ended and Bucky's slipping his slick fingers out of Tony and seamlessly replacing them with his dick.

Tony groans as what feels like every pleasure sensor in his body lights up with the drag of Bucky's cock filling him up, the slide against his pliant rim and the way Bucky presses against his prostate as he pushes past and bottoms out. Tony can tell Bucky's going to be a gentleman and wait for him to adjust to being so _full_ , but that ship sailed two fingers ago; Tony was ready to get fucked within an inch of his life _yesterday_. He hooks his legs around Bucky's back and starts rocking his hips. If Bucky's not going to fuck Tony with his cock, _Tony's_ going to fuck Tony with his cock.

Bucky's mouth drops open and his eyes squinch shut at the sudden undulation and the squeeze Tony throws in at the end. Then he grins and holds Tony's hips in an implacable grip. "So impatient," he teases with a long, slow thrust that Tony's wiggling is powerless to speed up.

"You're such a jerk," Tony whines breathlessly. It's past time he used his ace. He tilts his head towards his charging phone and asks, "JARVIS, how long's Steve been gone?"

"Captain Rogers has been gone for thirty-seven minutes," JARVIS says blandly.

Which means they've got roughly twenty-three minutes to get Tony knotted and both of them down to the kitchen like nothing special happened while Steve was gone.

 _That_ lights a fire under Bucky's ass. _Finally_.

Bucky starts fucking Tony like it's his goddamned job. He stays deep, and his short, jackrabbit thrusts curl Tony's toes.

Every part of Tony's body feels electric. He can't help trying to push back, meet Bucky's thrusts in the middle, but Bucky's strong hands locked around his hips are doing all the work for him. All Tony can do is rake up the sheets in his clenching fingers and try not to go out of his mind.

He can tell when Bucky gets close; his thrusts gain a little grind each time he bottoms out, and he's getting that furrow between his eyebrows that means he feels so good he has to fight to keep his eyes open. "Fuck," he bites out, and pulls out of Tony entirely.

"Wha—" Before Tony has time to complain about being empty, he's flipped onto his stomach and his ass is pulled up and filled even deeper than before. He drags his elbows under himself and holds on for dear life. He tries not to feel hot at the mental image of Bucky mounting him like a bitch, but even the words make him clench tight and start a mewl high in his throat.

Bucky's answering groan ends in several curses. He drops on top of Tony and wraps one arm tight around his waist, looping the other under him to both prop him up and pull him in by the shoulder. "Fuck, baby, feel so good," Bucky huffs, thrusts punctuating his words.

Pleasure coils up Tony's spine and winds tighter and tighter with each dig against his prostate, each choppy breath against his neck, each drag of his cockhead against the soft, high-thread count sheets. Then Bucky bites him at the bend in his neck, hard enough to bruise but not sharp enough to break skin, and it's right where Bucky and Steve say claiming bites always go, and Tony's body locks up from his ass down to his toes and all the way back up through his fingers. The lancing pain of the bite and the sudden crushing need to be claimed, for real, by the man driving shocks of pleasure into his body through his rapidly thickening dick, hurls Tony from _close_ to _jesus fuck yes yes this—yes—fuck!_

Bucky comes while Tony shakes through an orgasm so strong he feels it in his teeth, hot damn, and the amazing pressure of Bucky's knot fucking past Tony's spasming rim and locking them together feels so good it almost hurts. Bucky comes and comes, and Tony can smell it: the familiar musk with a hint of sweet, mixed with the spicy, almost cinnamon-y sharpness of Bucky's natural scent. Bucky doesn't stop grinding his hips, pushing deep, despite shuddering from wave after wave of orgasm that pumps still more come into Tony's covetous hole.

Knotted sex isn't something the non-werewolf community knows about, but it's officially one of Tony's favorite things about being soulmates with two alpha werewolves—whom he's finally found courtesy of a three-way musical GPS from destiny. Being turned into a werewolf himself (albeit an omega, like most bitten wolves become) also means getting knotted isn't as hard on his body as it would've been when he was still human.

The physical pleasure of being knotted is unparalleled.

But the bonding hormones that course through him when he gets knotted are phenomenal too, adding a whole new layer of pleasure matched only by the mating pheromones Bucky and Steve exude when they knot, all of which crash into Tony like a freight train thanks to his werewolf super-senses. The high those pheromones give him, seeping into his nose and pores so he can smell his alphas' abiding attachment to him on his skin for hours afterward, sensual proof of their stringent desire to keep him, has put a number of highs Tony paid good money to experience as a teen to shame.

There's nothing quite so heady as knowing someone loves you enough to want you for the long haul, wants to keep you skin to skin with them, nestled close under the covers, untouchable to the world moving on outside your happy soulmate cocoon.

Tony always feels so full when his boyfriends knot him, and the volume of come filling his channel is a constant, steady pressure against his prostate that only heightens the blaze of pleasure he's currently getting from each of Bucky's minute thrusts. He jerks and twitches, pleasure spiraling up and up again, even faster this time, just like it always does when he's knotted, like he's in a state of suspended orgasm, and pleasure's a living thing that wraps around him and squeezes and squeezes instead of merely washing through him and leaving him panting in its wake.

"You're doing so well for me," Bucky coos into Tony's neck, scent infused with pride as he lips the skin he bruised.

The alpha's praise pours over Tony in a fresh wave of tingling warmth. His body rocks with it, clenches up in pleasure at Bucky's satisfaction—startling a moan from Bucky and a whine from himself as his soulmate's knot nudges harder against his prostate.

The knot takes about ten minutes to go down, by which point Tony feels wrung out, oversensitive, and exhausted by the sustained ecstasy of an orgasm that rolls in in waves, but never seems to roll back out.

"Okay, doll?" Bucky rasps, pulling out and canting Tony's hips up with a pillow to keep his come inside. He's been making this sub-vocal growling purr for most of the time they spent tied together, so Tony's not surprised his throat is a little raw—not that it'll sound that way in a few minutes. Werewolves heal fast, and Bucky's enhanced on top of that.

So unfair.

Tony hums his sex-drunk contentment and twitches a finger or two to show Bucky he's fine; being empty of cock isn't as bad when you're so full of come.

Bucky makes a huffing sound that Tony's sure is a laugh, and moves around behind him to root through a nightstand drawer. After some rifling, Tony smells and hears lube being reopened. "I'm gonna plug you, okay, baby?" Bucky says. "You ready?"

With herculean effort, Tony mumbles an affirmative and gets his knees under him to tip his ass up farther and help Bucky out.

"Good boy," Bucky says softly, reverently, petting Tony's butt and sending pleasant tingles through to his balls at the contact. Tony shivers and preens. The butt plug is short, but thick at the base—perfect for staying snug inside Tony when his hole is knot-stretched and abused. Bucky slides it in and wiggles it a bit to make sure it'll hold—then he fucks Tony with it a little because he's a jerk who likes watching Tony squirm, even if it's with pleasure. Tony shies away, still too sensitive to handle anything more, especially with the rocking of Bucky's come inside him, making him feel full and hyperconscious of his ass and torso's every twitch and movement. Bucky chuckles but lets him be.

Tony floats for what's probably only a few minutes before Bucky returns and pulls him up to sit on his heels. "Put this on," he says, holding out Tony's leopard-print silk bathrobe.

Tony fumbles his way into the thing while Bucky cleans his stomach and chest of come with a wet wipe. Navigating the sleeves and belt is slow going; he keeps getting distracted by aftershocks and the slide of the silk amplifying the sensual buzz under his skin. When he looks back up, Bucky's tied his hair in a messy bun, and put on dark-wash jeans and a bittersweet henley with the buttons undone and the sleeves pushed to his elbows. The shirt shows off his corded forearms beautifully, and a glimpse of almost delicate-looking collarbone teases through the open collar. Tony wants to bite it.

The look must be all over his face, because Bucky casts him a cocky grin and says, "Save it for Steve. C'mon, we gotta hurry." He motions Tony forward.

Tony crawls unsteadily to him across the bed and is more surprised than he should be when Bucky swoops him into his arms and carries him down the stairs to the kitchen. He sets Tony down gently on the stool nearest the door at the island bar, straightens up to abandon him in favor of the stove, then huffs and bends over him again, twines his fingers through Tony's hair, and kisses him sweet and wet with just a hint of dirty.

He backs off just when Tony's dick starts perking back up.

"You're a menace," Tony informs him, not pouting in the slightest.

"I'm _your_ menace," Bucky replies with a wink and a smirk, and starts pulling out omelette ingredients.

Tony ducks his head to hide the grin hearing ' _yours_ ' always brings to his face. It's still incredible to him that Bucky and Steve are his—still more that they like it that way.

Anticipation mounts between them as the minutes tick slowly by and Steve's melody gets louder. It feels like an eternity and no time at all has passed when their harmony re-balances. Some small part of Tony unconsciously relaxes then, hearing the garage door open and shut, and Steve's footsteps through the mud room before he opens the door to the kitchen. His blue gym shorts ripple around his beefy thighs, and his distractingly tight Under Armour t-shirt isn't even sweat-stained; that fucking government serum is _so_ unfair.

"Hey," Steve says, smiling wide at the sight of them. "Good morning."

"Very," Bucky purrs, and drags him into a kiss that passed obscene three adjectives ago.

Steve backs Bucky against the counter with his hips and hands, and Tony watches with a stir of lust (thank you, youth and werewolf refractory period) and a heart warmed by the sight of the two men he's in love with being happy together.

"We made you a present," Bucky says gleefully when their lips part.

His pre-emptive smugness is matched by Steve's excitement. "Oh? You gonna tell me where it is or do I have to go hunt for it?"

"Tony's holding it," Bucky says coyly, spinning Steve around and shoving him toward the bar.

Tony grins and bites his lip, a little nervous at the moment of truth. What if Bucky's hypothesis is wrong?

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky, rightfully suspicious at his tone, but gamely rounds the bar and bends to kiss Tony like a gentleman before demanding his present like Tony would've done immediately.

Except Steve doesn't kiss Tony. His nostrils flare as he leans down and, inches from Tony's lips, detours to sniff along his jaw and down his neck. Steve's hands drop to Tony's thighs, and he groans long and loud and half-wild already.

"Surprise," Tony says, relieved. He grins at Bucky over Steve's head.

Who chuckles and leans against the side of the bar that'll afford him the best view of Steve and Tony. "That's only half of it."

But Steve seems to have realized that. He swiftly drops his head to Tony's lap, flings open the bathrobe and nuzzles his way down Tony's stomach, his breaths long, deep sniffs panted out his wet, open mouth. "Oh, god," he moans, "I can smell him inside you, oh my god. Sweetheart, you— _Tony_. You smell so _good_."

He takes Tony's cock in hand, and absently moves it aside to scent more easily. Tony thickens further at being treated like an object of desire for Steve's use rather than someone to whom Steve intends to give pleasure.

"Oh, Jesus," Steve growls when he noses at Tony's balls. "You knotted him, oh my god."

Werewolf strength and reflexes are the only reason Tony doesn't fall backward and brain himself on the marble countertop when Steve abruptly yanks him halfway off the bar stool to push his legs in the air and get at his ass.

There's a very audible gasp and a pregnant pause when Steve sees the plug. Then he buries his nose behind Tony's balls and starts giving his stretched rim little kitten licks that lance delicious fire from his balls to his still-ignored dick. Tony shudders and nearly brains himself on the countertop _again_ when his arms give out.

"Careful, punk," Bucky warns, mildly chastising.

"Sorry, sorry," Steve stutters, clearly still out of his mind. "I just—" He trails off, and seems adorably unaware that he never finished his sentence.

"S'fine," Tony gasps, trying to push his ass closer to Steve's face. "Just, maybe we should move this somewhere more conducive to—"

"Right," Steve agrees, and hoists Tony into his arms.

"Yes," Tony hisses, dragging Steve into their overdue kiss, tasting his own musk and Bucky's come and a hint of lube on Steve's tongue when he sucks on it.

But Steve doesn't take them upstairs. He takes them ten feet away, props Tony against the landing wall, drops to his knees, and pulls out the butt plug.

Heat floods Tony's face as Bucky's come starts gushing down his leg. His dick twitches when Steve watches it descend with a drawn-out groan and predatory eyes.

Tony barely notices Bucky sidle up to lean a few feet away, arms crossed attractively and a smug, heated grin on his face, because Steve starts licking the come off Tony's leg before any of it can hit the floor. His hot tongue trails its way up Tony's leg, closer and closer to the source, which has given no indication that the well is running dry. He replaces his tongue with his fingers when he gets to Tony's fluttering hole, presses two straight in, and then a third, before yanking them out abruptly, slicking his cock with Bucky's come, picking Tony up, and shoving his cock into him with a groan of satisfaction that Tony echoes as he is filled, again, and the pressure against his prostate picks back up with Steve's hard, unbridled thrusts.

Steve keeps moaning a litany of "holy shit" and "smell so good" and "oh, god" into Tony's neck as he breathes and sniffs and mouths at it.

Tony grips Steve's shoulders and does his best to hold on while delicious, electric heat shimmies up his spine to shut down his higher brain functions, reducing him to a being of skin and touch and sensation, a beloved thing that exists to be used. Bucky steps in quickly with a judiciously placed hand to keep Tony's head from banging against the wall with all the force behind the loud slapping sounds Steve's hips make reaming Tony's ass. Tony doesn't notice for an embarrassingly long time, however; he's busy watching Bucky tongue-fuck Steve's mouth while Steve pounds into him.

With the added pressure of Bucky's come thundering against his prostate on each of Steve's powerful thrusts; his leaking cock rubbing against Steve's shirt and firm belly as Steve holds him aloft and rams him onto his cock, heedlessly chasing his own orgasm; the scent of his soulmates' lust permeating the air; all the bonding pheromones still on Tony's skin from Bucky; and the abrupt hike in those pheromones from Steve when Bucky growls into Steve's mouth, "Gonna knot him, baby?" before swallowing the answering groan; it's little surprise Tony comes like a freight train embarrassingly fast.

He arches into Bucky's hand, and his body locks up tight while his mouth opens in a helpless wail. Steve's eyes clench shut and he shouts, rhythm going ragged as Tony's hole contracts and relaxes around him. It takes long moments, time stretching like taffy in Tony's endorphin-infused mind, but Steve soon regains equilibrium and resumes his breakneck pace. Tony shivers in his arms and goes boneless, slumping against his boyfriend while Bucky strokes his hair with one hand and, Tony realizes blearily, pulls out his dick with the other.

Unrelenting pleasure and the feel-good bonding pheromones make Tony's mind go a little hazy as Steve's cock prolongs the ecstasy melting his brain, lights the fuses for the electric aftershock bursts that ricochet through his heavy limbs. His ears thunder with his heartbeat and the soft comfort of their song. Time re-sharpens when Tony feels the telltale thickness of Steve's knot shoving past his rim. He realizes that under his heartbeat, threading through his harsh panting is the whining sound he makes high in his throat that Steve and Bucky love dragging out of him. He doesn't know when he started, nor how to make himself stop or feel embarrassed about it. His whole body's sparking like a live wire.

Steve's arms squeeze tight around him, and the punched-out sound he makes tells Tony he's coming before even the stutter in his hips and the scent of Steve's come drifting up from his pelvis.

"That's it," Bucky croons at them as they shake together, and the prolonged tsunami orgasm that comes with being knotted crashes into Tony's already fuck-drunk body. "C'mon, come sit down." He guides Steve, who is a king and hasn't dropped Tony even though he's wobbly and his face is mostly buried in Tony's neck, to sit on the living room couch a short distance from the landing. Tony leans his head against Steve's, lets his body and cock throb with his heartbeat, pulsing pleasure and a stagger of orgasms through him with the ebb and flow of waves breaking on the shore.

He turns his head only when Steve moves, and he hears the telltale sound of someone ecstatically sucking dick. Bucky is standing beside them, fucking Steve's mouth. Tony's brain is still too floaty to process what Bucky's saying, he just knows it's the kind of filthy encouragement that makes Steve's hips grind up harder before Bucky grunts softly and Tony smells come down Steve's throat.

Bucky slumps onto the arm of the couch, then stretches indolently along the top. Absently, he reaches out to stroke their hair, caress their shoulders, arms, and backs, his soft, quiet touches grounding Tony as much as the background hum of their perfect song, assuring him Bucky is _here_ , is staying with them while Steve's knot holds firm and then slowly deflates.

"Happy birthday," Tony tells Steve when he's finally caught his breath, and his brain's inkling that there's something he's forgotten to do coalesces enough to remind him why he's had an amazing morning.

Steve cuddles him closer and kisses his neck where Bucky's bruise is slowly fading. "Thanks," he rumbles. Then, faintly embarrassed but mostly smelling curious, "How'd you know about the, uh…the smell thing?"

"Was Bucky's idea," Tony admits, turning his head so he can see both of them.

"Yeah, well," Bucky says, lazy amusement in his tone, "I pay attention. And Stevie's kinda obvious."

Tony snickers.

Steve huffs, pouting a little before the veneer cracks and he snickers too. "Well, I'm glad. Thank you, both of you. This was a wonderful present to come home to, and I highly encourage you to make it a habit."

"Hmm," Tony says, snuggling closer, "not sure I wanna reward you for leaving me every morning to go running at the ass-crack of dawn."

"Aw, baby," Steve says, rubbing Tony's back, "you miss me when you wake up?"

"Yes," Tony says flatly; he can hear the vulnerability layered under the sass, and all the bonding hormones in his bloodstream are more potent than his usual insecurity-born snarky denials of the obvious. Steve rewards him with a kiss, and Bucky scratches his scalp in a sigh-inducing massage, so at least there's that.

"Well, dunno about you guys, but _I_ need to eat something," Steve says a few minutes later—forced to acknowledge his hunger when his stomach's audible growl prompts an embarrassed chuckle from him and more mocking ones from Tony and Bucky. "But after, wanna shower and go back to bed?"

Tony wiggles contentedly on Steve's cock. "Bed sounds good."

"Like you'll sleep," Bucky mutters.

"Not initially, no," Tony says primly. "But we can nap after. And you both better be there when I wake up." He _hates_ waking up alone. He doesn't need much sleep now that he's a werewolf, but Steve and Bucky somehow need even less.

"The omega has spoken," Steve intones wryly.

Tony can smell his agreement though, and grins. "Damn straight."

"Guess we're bringing work to bed," Bucky says, because he's a good boyfriend too.

When Steve's knot slips out soon after, Bucky squats and replaces the plug before come can get past Steve's running shorts and leak onto the sofa.

They eat breakfast together, and shower, and almost make it to the bed for their next round of orgasms, and then Tony finally finishes the sleep Bucky's skilled mouth interrupted. When he wakes an hour or so later, all feels right with the world—and his obedient boyfriends are sitting beside him. When they notice him waking (probably the change in his heartbeat; Steve said something about that when they started dating) his boyfriends put down their tablet (Bucky) and sketchpad (Steve) to nuzzle and kiss him and welcome him up.

It is a _very_ good morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please let me know with kudos and comments—I absolutely live for them! ^_^ ♥


End file.
